


Man of Many Faces

by Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Amnesia, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: Dan is a shapeshifter who doesn't know what his true form is.





	Man of Many Faces

Dan’s still not quite used to it.

He’s had amnesia for years, the result of serious illness and an identity crisis. His therapist, his doctors, his family, all say it’s common for shapeshifters to forget who they truly are.

He wonders if the ones he’d learned to call Avi, Debbie, Dana, Mom…he wonders if they’ve forgotten, too.

He remembers meeting his family again, for the first time. They smelled familiar, that was what hit him. They smelled like the home he vaguely remembered, that suddenly came back to him over the years. Crisp memories he told on Game Grumps, the show he does with Arin.

That much he remembers clearly.

He remembers choosing to move to California. He remembers Arin and Suzy, Ross and Brian. He’s getting better about his childhood and family now. He feels…not quite safe, but enough like he’s home now.

Arin has come to smell almost as familiar as his family. Even the stink of fart reminds him of home. But a different sort of home.

He has nightmares, occasionally. Dark, inky depths of the ocean, a sea of endless stars, gasping for breath in a tiny white room. He wakes up with a woman’s hands, the tail of a fox, rich and red, pale hair the color of the sky, throughout the years. Each is a different dream, of course. A dream…or a memory?

Could he really have been a dolphin, a fox, a woman? Could he have been a small dog, keeping an elderly man company? Could he have been a shark, the thing he fears most in this world?

It’s his dreams that tell him that he was. And he believes them, because he has no choice but to believe them. Shapeshifters age strangely and can live many lives outside of the human timestream.

But now he is living as a human. Why?

It can’t be just because of his family. They all look human, sure, but they aren’t. His frustration is that they won’t tell him what he really is. The old woman called “Mom,” his grandmother, is wise. She was the one to tell him: “You need to find out for yourself what you are inside.”

He can still feel her gnarled, cool hand on his breast.

~

It’s that he’s living a lie that unsettles him. But, then again, shapeshifters live a lie. And he doesn’t know if he’s told Arin.

Arin, who smells of sweat and Monster and garbage farts. Who smells sweet and warm, and whose smile reminds him of a faraway dream, long lost to him across the cosmos.

What if he’d never told Arin his true nature? Would Arin want him to go away? (It wouldn’t be the first time a magikal one has been chased from their homes.) Or, what if he had? Had Arin accepted him?

More importantly, were they something…more…?

Dan doesn’t remember, but something in his stomach heats up whenever Arin fixes him with his deep brown eyes that remind him of cool, damp earth after a rainstorm.

He had once been a gardener, tending the soils. 

He had once been a fae folk, bringing trees to life.

He had once been a lover, his back to the cool earth, as warm hands roamed free like horses on the plain.

~

Dan doesn’t like asking stupid questions, so one night when they are alone, he goes for it.

He kisses Arin.

Dan can feel himself changing, molding, though into what, he isn’t sure. His chest becomes curved, giving him perky boobs Arin will like. His ears become pointed, but soft and fluffy; tufted ears of a cat. A fox’s tail colored cobalt and silver falls across Arin’s lap. Too late, he remembers Arin may not know his deception, but by then, his tongue is long, and licks Arin’s teeth, tasting him. He’s been so hungry for this that he doesn’t care. 

He will be selfish just once. He will take.

And he doesn’t have to feel guilty. Arin kisses him back, devouring and being devoured, and it’s wonderful. Dan doesn’t want to stop. He can’t stop. He needs more. Pressing closer, he moans, trying to transform his genitalia into something more familiar. (This deception is more painful than the rest. He knows from experience how much deceptive sex hurts. But he will do it, for Arin.)

It’s this that makes Arin stop. He pulls back, panting, face red, lips swollen. He has never looked so beautiful. Dan needs him again, needs the distraction of Arin’s taste.

But Arin pulls back, looking serious. Dan cocks his head.

“Arin…”

His own voice sounds foreign. He can’t even remember if he knows how to speak English. His mind races in Hebrew, French, Italian, Norwegian, Japanese. Each distinct accent can only echo Arin’s name.

Arin.

His soul is on fire with the desire to kiss, to take, to give pleasure to the one man, the one human, keeping him anchored to the earth.

“Take me,” he says in what he thinks is English.

Arin shakes his head.

Dan’s skin turns cold and slippery, and his legs begin to form into something like a snail’s foot. He feels ill with want and with rejection, and he wants nothing more than to turn to stardust and blow away…

Arin pulls him back, hands slipping along the slime on his wrists, kissing him firmly. Dan purrs, his vocal chords changing, whiskers forming on his face, long rabbit ears fall down his back. 

He has scales where chest hair would be, the tail of a rattlesnake, hair the color of summer grass, fused with flowers.

He is confused, unsure of which form is his own, unsure if he could maintain any of his thousands of forms.

He is in love. He has all the answers.

Arin kisses him, but stops. Dan pants, and tries again to change his body further. He almost can’t do it; there is pain in his stomach that turns into a blaze in his skull. He starts to panic, gills forming on his neck, gasping…

Warm claws draw him near. A dog’s tongue caresses his cheek. A bear’s hide warms his frozen fears.

The smell of home returns, faster, more prevalent. Dan’s heart beats faster. When he looks up, Arin’s eyes shine like galaxies he once knew, far, far away.

“Love me…” Arin’s voice echoes, something foreign in its aftertaste. “Love me…as you are.” His form reverts, shifting before Dan’s dizzy eyes. It’s Arin, the man he loves, not human after all.

“What…are you?” Dan asks. It’s a stupid question. He doesn’t like stupid questions.

“I’m Arin,” Arin replies. 

It’s a dumb answer, and it makes Dan laugh.

“Hi, Arin. I’m Dad.”

Arin rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“No?” Dan leans in to kiss Arin again, but is stopped.

“Love me as you are,” Arin says. “No more changing.”

“But,” Dan protests, “I don’t know who I am.”

Arin smirks. “That’s part of the fun.”

Dan sighs…and returns. It’s the form he’s most familiar with, that he can conjure from memory at a moment’s notice. It’s a familiar scratch of curly hair, soft band tee shirt, ripped jeans and cold knees. It’s hazel eyes and cleft chin, and scar above the eyebrow. It’s a tongue that speaks English and forgotten Hebrew. It’s a heart that beats strong…for Arin.

“There you are,” Arin purrs, his voice low. He cups Dan’s cheek in his palm and pulls him close. “Welcome home.”

As they kiss, Dan reflects.

He doesn’t know if this form is home, if this is the form he originated as, or who he’s meant to be.

But Arin is here.

It’s as close as he’ll ever get to himself, he supposes.

And Dan is in love.

He has all the answers.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This happened.
> 
> I'm glad it did, as I've been pretty trapped in writer's block for ages. RIP
> 
> Inspired by this prompt here: http://iamkatsudone.tumblr.com/post/179758252295/writing-prompt-s-you-have-recently-woken-up-in
> 
> If you like this, consider letting me know with a comment! Who knows? Maybe someday I'll develop this universe properly. Who knows, right?


End file.
